Talk to Me
by iHamster
Summary: "I'm afraid I might kill myself." Takes place after Citizen Fang, but more of a coda to Hunteri Heroici. Castiel returns to Dean after seeing the state of heaven.


**Originally written on Jan. 15****th****.**

Dean still hadn't talked to Sam since the call, and he could tell Sam was pissed. He didn't understand. The next time they saw each other, he would explain what happened. What Elizabeth saw.

Dean knew that Sam wanted space. He texted him the motel address and room number anyway, even though he was about eleven hours away.

He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his face wearily. At least Benny was safe. The bastard was probably stocking up on the AB positive right now, shacked up somewhere remote. Dean couldn't help but worry, thinking about what Benny said earlier. If Benny was no longer around anyone to keep all his ducks in a row, what could he do?

Dean's phone buzzed in his hands, and he straightened his slouch slightly at the message.

_With Ameila. Talking. Don't wait up_

Dean stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head and tossing the phone behind him on the bed. Well good for him, Sam's finally where he wants to be. He can talk it out with his girl, and whatever happens, happens.

A sudden flutter of wings. Castiel had barely landed in the room before staggering against the wall.

"Cas!" Dean pushed himself off the bed just in time to catch Castiel before he completely slumped to the floor. "Whoa, take it easy. Easy."

Even standing upright, Castiel still leaned heavily against Dean.

"Hey, what happened?" Dean asked gruffly. He steadied Castiel by his shoulders. The angel seemed in a state of pain, his eyes shut tightly as if trying to keep something inside.

"Dean -" The eyes opened, dim and pained.

Do angels hyperventilate? God, he was hyperventilating.

"Calm down," Dean said. "Just, deep breaths." It would've been comical, seeing him take such large breaths, if Castiel didn't look so panicked.

"Dean," Castiel repeated, as Dean was saying, "Here, have a seat," and guiding him to the edge of one of the beds. The despair in Castiel's voice worried the hunter more than anything so far.

"I-I saw heaven," he weakly continued. The angels hands were holding each other so tight that the knuckles were bone-white.

"_Jesus_, Cas," Dean said. He kneeled in front of Castiel and covered the angel's tense hands with his. Dean tried to catch his eyes.

"After our last case, I thought I could face heaven. I didn't want to run away anymore, I learned that," Castiel finally looked up, and Dean knew what had happened.

"The bodies -" Castiel choked. He took a deep breath, and his next words were cracked and strung together. "L-large sections in heaven just cut off, full of the _dead_."

Castiel was beginning to curl in on himself again, his eyes screwing shut as his head bowed. "I ran into no others. Either they didn't know I was there, or they wanted me to see all the damage I had caused."

Dean squeezed Castiel's hands tighter.

"I knew them," Castiel continued, his voice growing quieter. "My brothers and sisters, I recognized them. And the horror still painted on their faces."

He caught Dean's eyes, which were nearly level to his. He looked away, and abruptly pulled away his hands and moved away.

"I shouldn't be here," he distressingly said. "What do I do, what-" he muttered to himself as he fidgeted, glancing at the door.

Dean got up just as quick, and went over to Castiel. "Hey, it's-"

The angel blade was suddenly in Castiel's shaking hands. His breathing had picked up again, and he was looking towards the blade hopelessly. It glinted menacingly.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Dean put his hands up defensively. He could barely get himself to talk, his brain was trying to catch up with the fear. "Cas, _Cas_, don't. Just think for a second, don't do anything rash."

Their eyes were locked together, desperate green and red-rimmed blue. "Listen to me, okay?" Dean said slowly. He walked over to Castiel cautiously, like he would a timid animal.

"Give me the blade," Dean said. "You don't need to use that, Cas." He kept his eyes steadily fixed to Castiel's. He could see the angel's resolve waver.

"Give me the blade," he repeated, softer this time. They stood only a few inches apart, personal space be damned. That was the last thing Dean cared about right now. His focus was entirely on Castiel.

At last, Castiel set the blade into Dean's open hand. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and in the same breath he said, "Okay, I'm going to put this away, alright?" And nodded with a slight smile, still intent on gauging Castiel's reactions. When Dean thought he saw a slight nod, he turned and walked over to his duffle, shoving the angel blade deep into the bag, under layers of clothes.

Dean heard the angel make a sound like a sob. He turned around just as the angel's knees seemed to give out.

"Hey, hey," he said soothingly, going down on the ground to kneel in front of Castiel. The angel's head was bowed, and though there were no tears, he was just as well crying. Choked sounds emitted from the back of his throat.

Without thinking twice Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel. Just like in Purgatory, the angel seemed thin and as sturdy as a rag doll. Except this time, after a few moments, Castiel's arms wrapped around Dean's back, his hands clutching the human like that of a drowning man. He buried his face in Dean's neck, and soaked up the comfort of Dean's warmth.


End file.
